


Cellmates

by Trytofocus



Series: Gallery AU [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Collar, Gag, Hurt No Comfort, Imprisonment, M/M, No Sex, SHEITH - Freeform, Strait Jacket, Voltron, Whump, cellmates, dark!shiro, keith - Freeform, non con bondage, non sexual bondage, votlron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 03:28:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15677112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trytofocus/pseuds/Trytofocus
Summary: Keith is forced to share a cell with his former patron, sleeping arrangements aren't ideal.





	Cellmates

Keith’s nights in the gallery were always too short. When he couldn’t sleep he’d lie awake composing himself and it’d be like the morning sneaks up on him. On nights he managed to close his eyes it’d be one blink before the alarm sobered him up for the day.  
  
This wasn’t better.   
  
He pushed the side of his face into the ratty mattress of his cot and cupped his hand over the other ear. It didn’t help much, and screwing his eyes shut didn’t stop the sounds from invading his mind as his cellmate maintained a steady stream of unintelligible nonsense from the far corner by the door. It’s been hours. By the standard set on the previous few days since he’s arrived Keith was in for another sleepless night made agonizingly long by Shiro’s protests of the sleeping arrangements.   
  
Keith swore he wouldn’t talk to him. He made himself ignore every whim of the man sitting chained to the wall on the other side of the room. Perhaps Shiro’s residual energy from being new is enough to keep him going through the installations, but if Keith nodded off during a showing he was sure there would be hell to pay. There always was. Things could _always_ be worse.      
  
The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop it.   
  
“Please,” he whispered. When Shiro didn’t stop to hear the small sound, he made himself say it louder. “ _Please_ , let me _sleep_.”   
  
That did quiet him. Keith could almost feel those stark grey eyes trained on him. He should have been used to it by now. After a short pause, Keith heard one punctuated grunt from Shiro’s direction. He flinched when he did it again, louder, making him sit up in bed despite himself.   
  
Shiro was a big man but the straitjacket and the straps folding his legs made him look compact, fitting for the small space they were both occupying. There was a kind of cosmic justice in that, a sense of irony that wasn’t lost on Keith, though it didn’t feel right, to be pleased at the sight or the situation. After all he’s been thorough in this nightmare house, he couldn’t believe that his heart swole with pity for the other man still.   
  
“Look, I know this sucks,” Keith said, hating himself for every shred of attention exported out of him. Shiro didn’t deserve it. “But I can’t untie you I don’t have the keys to the locks. So please will you just--”   
  
“Mmmph!” Shiro growled, unable to speak around the gag plugging his mouth full of silicone. His head urgently gestured to the little window in the door for disembodied staff hands to bring in food for them.    
  
“They don’t care,” Keith said, leaning on one raised knee, hiding behind it like a shield. Moving his leg rattled the chain attached to his ankle. He didn’t know if it was long enough to stretch all the way over to Shiro but he wasn’t about to check. He wasn’t about to comfort the man who had been tormenting him for months, not in a million years.   
  
Shiro slumped against the wall, breathing heavily through his nose. His arms, encased in thick leather sleeves and folded across his chest, moved in rhythm with his ragged breath. He’s been struggling a while, and Keith knew how tight the staff liked to secure these things, not really allowing for full ribcage expansion and easy breath. The gag was probably not helping matters.   
  
Keith took the break as cue to try and go back to sleep, attempt at least a little rest before whatever was in store for him tomorrow. The minute his head hit the cot Shiro came alive once more, resuming his pointless struggle. The short chain tethering his collared neck to the wall and keeping him upright clicked and clanged with each minute movement, slowly driving Keith crazy. He lay there, knees drawn up to his chin in a protective fetal position, trying to fortify himself till Shiro was inevitably bound to tire and nod off. Maybe if he was lucky, he’d get an hour of rest, then beg the staff to separate them in the morning. Not that he believed that something will be done, they wouldn’t listen to him, the never have. But he could still at least try to make himself feel better.   
  
Exhaustion poured itself into every crevice of Keith’s body, a heavy, dead weight.   
  
They’ll listen, he’ll make them listen, he’ll behave himself, he’ll let them do whatever they want to him no protest no struggle no sedation. If he could just get five minutes of rest.   
  
Shiro’s voice was hoarse around the gag, yet he persisted. A neverending fish-on-land struggle Keith was all too familiar with. He knew it wasn’t all for show, he knew from experience after a while, muscles start to protest, hurt, spasm, beg for movement. Someone who wasn’t used to it would get cramps sooner rather than later and the pain was _excruciating_.    
  
“Mmmmmm… _MMMPPH_!”   
  
The moans were taking a distinctly begging tone now, coming in short little muffled bursts.   
  
Keith muffled a scream of his own with the crook of his elbow before he was on his feet and looming a foot across from the bound man sitting on the floor. Shiro looked up at him, wet grey eyes catching a little of the dim light spilling from the door window. It was as far as Keith’s chain would allow and he took a moment to look, drink it in, Shiro kneeling before him, bound and gagged and _begging_.   
  
Keith’s trimmed fingernails dug into his palm as his fists tightened at his sides. It would be so easy. Knock him out, just for a little while. He wouldn’t even have to sleep, just rest his eyes. Wake Shiro up in a few minutes, make sure he’s breathing. A small, hysterical laugh bubbled its way out of him. Who would care? Just one strike to the side of the head, where hair covers the mark.   
  
“Mhp?” Shiro’s eyes danced all over Keith’s face, he must look crazy, standing there, laughing like that. “ _Mm?_ ” the sounds he made were pathetic, just like him. Keith took weeks, _months_ to break, and there Shiro was, groveling at his feet a mere few days into it. _Hilarious_.   
  
“You’re-” Keith said, interrupting himself with a hiccuping, laughing breath.  
  
Pathetic.  
  
Disgusting.  
  
A sad excuse for a human being.  
  
“You’re _such_ a-”  
  
“Mmmph!” Shiro cried. From this distance Keith could see the strain of his jaw, mouth forced open to accommodate the large insert pressing down his tongue and filling his cheeks, creasing what was visible of the skin between the gag and the collar. His hair, always so perfectly slicked and arranged, hung over his eyes in a dirty, sweaty bunch. He flicked it away with a rabid toss of his head and leaned forward as far as the chain would let him. The collar dug into his neck as he strained to look at Keith.   
  
Keith’s chained ankle wouldn’t budge any further, and so his knees hit the floor, closing the remaining distance between them.   
  
He would deserve it.   
  
Shiro jerked back when Keith’s hands found the front of his straitjacket, pressed him flush back against the wall. His trapped arms rattled uselessly against the leather keeping them in place.   
  
It would be so satisfying.  
  
Keith’s hands dragged upwards, crawling over Shiro’s chest and collar, then the side of his open jaw to grab at the gag strap there and hold him still. Under his grip, he could feel the bound man shake and try to break away, to turn and shrink further against the wall, but between Keith and the chain there was nowhere to go.   
  
It would be right.   
  
Keith’s other hand clenched into a fist, lining itself for a swift lights out. Shiro’s nostrils flared with every panicked breath, eyes wrinkling tightly shut.   
  
_So why couldn’t he do it?_  
  
Shiro’s fear melted into confusion when Keith let go of the gag to instead slide both hands to the back of his neck. Puzzled blinks and darting pupils tried to look at what Keith was doing, feeling the seam of the collar and its buckles behind him.   
  
“Locked,” Keith said quietly, grabbing it and shaking it a bit. Directly above it, another identical padlock held the gag in place.  
  
“Locked,” Keith repeated, pulling on it so Shiro could feel it. Every set of straps and buckles on the straitjacket were locked as well, Keith made sure to check and point it out. Shiro’s breath seemed to calm down, relaxing against Keith’s exploration of his bonds. His torso and crotch were tightly wrapped in leather but the legs, the legs were bare. Held in a folded kneeling frog-tie by two thick straps each. The muscles spasmed under Keith’s touch there, stiff. When his fingers traced the leather to the metal of the clasps he found it was the only thing holding it closed. A different style of buckles, and no locks.  
  
Shiro looked down and realized the same thing, then jerked his head to look at Keith, those pleading eyes back on in full force again, as if Keith wasn’t ready to knock him silly just a few minutes ago. Keith stared back sternly, putting his hands in his lap and shushing Shiro’s protesting moan.  
  
He would need to put them back on before the staff comes in the morning. Also he would need to stretch out Shiro’s legs as they’re likely either too numb or too cramped for him to move on his own after hours of being folded under him.  
  
“I do this,” Keith sighed, “-and you shut up for the rest of the night.” 

Shiro nodded his head, desperate for the smallest relief. Keith knew how much it mattered. 

He got to it.   



End file.
